Death And The Princess
by We Stole Vodka From The Optic
Summary: ITunes Challenge - Evil!Princess character snapshots. "There is no good here, in Albion, but no one seems to realize that. Except for her."


Death And The Princess

_Itunes Challenge - Put Itunes on shuffle and select five songs. Write five drabbles based on these five songs._

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><p><strong>1. Got To Get You Into My Life – The Beatles<strong>

"I love you." She says, and it is a lie, but she says it anyway because the words are pretty and yeah, maybe she might need this. Want this.

And of course Elliot just stares at her, beside her, one hand on top of hers. He's starstruck, she thinks, which is both sad and pretty funny, at least to her. Because really, she just wants _him. _The princess has no need for emotional relationships. Those are stupid to her. Ridiculous.

She wants a fuck beneath the pale moonlight in the gardens, and to brag about it to anyone who will listen in the morning. And that is everyone, because no one in all of Albion has the courage or the audacity to turn away from her words.

"I love you too." Elliot says, and the princess honestly doesn't give a damn if it's a lie.

"You were meant for me," She says, and again she dons a liar's mask. She leans forward, fingers like claws, pushing him down, far down into the dewy grass. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, forever," Elliot whispers, kisses her, but she avoids his lips pretending not to notice. She rips open his shirt. "Love."

Love is such a stupid word, the princess thinks, as she trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along his chest.

Months later, she faces her brother and the stupid boy and a pack of equally stupid people.

Make a choice, her brother tells her, and she does.

"Let them all die."

And the look on Elliot's face is so _goddamn funny, _and when the guards take him away, past her, to his death, she whispers,

"Did you really think it was going to last forever," And then she spits the next word out mockingly, like it were poison. _"Love?"_

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><p><strong>2. Mariella – Kate Nash<strong>

Her mother has always been afraid of her.

The princess doesn't care, really. She has never cared. Sparrow was meaningless to her, a matriarchal figure that hovered too much and too often, a blockade when it came to the princess' fun.

"Go away, mother," She says, when her mother finds her beating a small boy outside the castle. He called her mean. She decided to show him what mean meant. "I'm busy."

But Sparrow wrenched her wrists from the stick she was using and helped the boy up. The princess watched this owlishly, and then smacked the Queen of Albion about the ankles.

"No!" The princess said, spitting, face red. "Mine!"

"Go!" Sparrow had yelled, equally angry, equally red-faced. "Go! I can't even look at you! GO!"

But her mother watched her fearfully from then on, an edge in those cold, flinty eyes that didn't escape the princess' notice.

When her mother begins to die, slowly and horribly. The princess visits her once.

She sits, and watches, and her mother watches too.

"I'll be what I want to be," The princess says, and she takes out a knife, edged in gold. Her mother's eyes widen, and she calls for Jasper, screams almost. "When you're dead."

Later, she licks the blood from her fingers and laughs.

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><p><strong>3. Heads Will Roll – Yeah Yeah Yeahs<strong>

Her brother tastes like smoke and smells like darkness and rain.

The dungeons suit him, she thinks, and he says nothing when she enters. Or when she presses a kiss to his lips.

"I wonder how your blood will taste," She questions aloud, staring at him, through him. His eyes see nothing, through her. Ashamed, maybe, but she's drunk out of her mind and she doesn't really care. "When they shoot you down? When your head rolls around on the floor?"

"Go." He tells her. "Leave me, sister. You're drunk."

"No." She tells him, and presses a hand against his neck. She licks her lips. They taste like ale and cheap wine. "Do you think I should dance for the occasion?"

Logan puts a hand to her wrist, holds it, "I don't know what will be worse for Albion," He tells her, voice ragged and throaty and _scared. _His fear makes her smile, makes her horribly, disgustingly happy. "You. Or the Crawler."

And then she strangles him, and he lets her.

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><p><strong>4. Where Does The Good Go – Tegan and Sara<strong>

Screw the people of Albion.

She hates them, wants them dead and hung and quartered and shot. Wants their lifeblood to flood her streets, and their mournful cries to lull her to sleep.

There is no good here, in Albion, but no one seems to realize that.

Except for her.

"There is nothing in the treasury," Walter questions, asks, eyes angry and alight, and she thinks not for the first time that he is the most boring man. "You're letting these people die, and for what?"

"Have you seen these people?" She asks, and then gestures around her, overlooking the balcony. As if that explains it all.

"Have you?" He asks, and that stirs her so much she backhands him across the face. Walter falls, one hand grasping the balcony for leverage.

"Don't question me," She mutters, with eyes that burn like fire. They turn to watch the sunset as it dips below the horizon. "Or my motives."

"What motives?" Walter breathes, glaring at her. "Do you think I'm proud of what you've become, girl?"

"I don't give a damn what you are proud of." She shrugs, and then fixes the crown above her head. "I will do what I want, old man."

"I won't let you—"

The gun from her holster leaves, and she cocks it, not even sparing him a look. She senses him freeze.

"You're nothing." She tells him, and then she shoots.

She leaves the body there, but his words touch her, for the first time.

And then she realizes that she shouldn't give a damn.

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><p><strong>5. The Sea Is A Good Place To Think Of The Future – Los Campesinos!<strong>

The princess knows what she is.

The same goes for Reaver.

She follows him to the pier. The Darkness will come tomorrow, nearly everyone will be dead. They don't really need a Hero, so she follows Reaver. The ships float, bobbing and moving on the water.

"I'm coming with you," She tells him, and Reaver cocks an eyebrow. "I've never really gotten to sail on the sea."

"Well," Reaver shrugs, and smirks, and the look is so very much like her own. "Who am I to deny a Queen's request?"

"And who am I to deny such a delicious idea?" She smiles, with half-lidded eyes. "I find that the future is best comprehended when one is sat at sea."

Reaver presses a hand to her neck, looks into her eyes, "Oh, yes. The _future."_

He presses a dark piece of metal into her palm.

When her life leaks out on the floors in Wraithmarsh, with Reaver walking briskly behind her and the Court staring down at her with cold, cold eyes… that is when she realizes she should have seen her own fate coming.

She accepted death.

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><p><strong>Feedback is appreciated!<strong>


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